


without you

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Established Bechloe, F/F, Mugging, bechloe - Freeform, bechloe angst, bechloe fluff, bechloe smut, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 18:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20952806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Prompt moved to the end notes to save spoilers. If you're coming from Tumblr, you'll likely have seen it on the initial ask post, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!





	without you

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I'd like to point out that I have (fortunately) never been in Chloe's position before, therefore I have absolutely no idea how such a conversation would play out, so please just roll with it! Secondly, my computer has been switching between the US and UK keyboards for some reason, so my apologies if there's a mixture of both regions spellings. I tried to catch them all, but I'm sure there are some I've missed.
> 
> **Rated M** for smut and mature themes.

The pale sunrise shining through the gap in the drapes really does not reflect the chill of the bitter October air outside, and the idea of pushing back the comforter and climbing out of bed is about the most unappealing thing Beca can think of.

Fortunately, doing so is really not her focus for long. Not once the familiar feeling of a soft kiss pressing delicately to the bare skin of her shoulder catches her attention, and Beca’s lips are overtaken by a lazy smile, body shuffling backward slightly to curl closer into Chloe’s protective hold.

Warm fingers graze along her side, tips dancing softly over her hip bone, and Beca’s skin tingles beneath the tender touch. A soft, breathy laugh falls in response from her lips as Chloe begins to pepper kisses upward toward Beca’s neck, goosebumps rising instantly in their path.

“We have to get up,” Beca mumbles, though there is zero conviction in her tone. Her body has given into Chloe’s touch already, stomach tensing slightly as delicate fingertips dance slowly downward. “We have work.”

“Mm,” Chloe hums in acknowledgment, lips now pushing gentle, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin of Beca’s neck, landing just below her ear. “Better make this quick then.”

There is a kind of teasing to her voice, one that causes Beca’s lazy grin to widen, before she is turning easily onto her back, with a dainty hand rising to gently cup Chloe’s cheek. Beca turns her face to capture Chloe’s lips with her own, bare legs instantly parting as Chloe’s hand lowers between them. Without warning, Chloe’s middle finger dips to slide past Beca’s already slick center, and a quiet whimper falls easily from Beca’s lips in response.

There was a time where Beca would be embarrassed by how turned on she would get from such a simple touch, but that is long gone now. Beca barely remembers a time before Chloe, and Beca is so hopelessly in love, so wholly and completely Chloe’s, that she likes showing her girlfriend what she does to her. She likes feeding her ego, causing her lips to curve slightly upward against her own the way she can feel that they are right now.

“You’re so wet,” Chloe whispers into their kiss, the tip of her finger sliding through Beca’s arousal to begin rubbing small, slow circles against her increasingly sensitive clit.

Beca doesn’t respond, at least not with words. Her lips part as they press to Chloe’s, a small, quiet moan falling into their messy, urgent kiss.

There are definitely worse ways to be woken up, and Beca suddenly doesn’t even mind the early morning. She doesn’t care that she is awake much sooner than she would’ve really liked to be.

A second finger pushes through Beca’s folds, with Chloe gently taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Let me hear you,” Chloe murmurs quietly, releasing Beca’s lip to duck her head toward her chest. Chloe’s full lips trail soft kisses along warm skin until she can part her lips to take Beca’s nipple into her mouth, tongue flicking instantly over the tip of the stiffening bud.

“Fuck,” Beca whispers, her back instantly arching slightly. Beca’s thighs push further apart, small hands moving up to begin softly trailing her fingertips along the smooth skin of Chloe’s upper back. Her breath catches in her throat as teeth gently graze along her hardened nipple, the speed of Chloe’s fingers picking up as they rub expertly through swollen folds. “Fuck, Chloe.”

Chloe likes to be in control, and honestly, Beca likes that, too. Beca admittedly loves being entirely at Chloe’s mercy, though she is getting too lost in the moment now, evidenced by the way her hand slips upward to wind her fingers through messy red hair, until she can begin to push her head downward.

Chloe definitely does not need telling twice.

It is almost seamless, the way Chloe releases her nipple and begins to move down her body, until she is settling comfortably between Beca’s parted legs, then lifting a glistening thigh to drape over her shoulder. Chloe’s lips wrap around Beca’s swollen clit the same way they wrapped only moments ago around her nipple, and Beca’s back instantly arches with the feeling, fingers tangling through the back of Chloe’s matted hair.

Beca wants to make this last longer, wants to hold herself together, but it all started so quickly that her body reacts at the same speed, and soon there are loud, repetitive moans falling from her lips as her head tips back against the plush pillows. Chloe’s tongue is buried deeply inside of her, and Beca knows it is impossible for her to prolong this the way she would like.

As Beca comes, as her walls begin to clench and her body loses any hint of control, her verbal reactions intensify. Her loud moans and desperate, pleasured whimpers cause a smug look to paint itself across Chloe’s features as she kisses her way back up Beca’s trembling body, until she can finally reconnect their lips.

The taste of herself on Chloe’s tongue is familiar by now, and Beca kisses her hungrily, not caring about the exchange of fluid from Chloe’s glistening chin to her own. Her arms are soon wrapping tightly around Chloe’s neck and pulling her body flush against her own.

They had woken before their alarm, though it finally begins to sound from the bedside table. Beca doesn’t even pull away from the kiss as she reaches out a hand to swat blindly for her phone, tapping at the screen until the sound finally stops. She doesn’t care if it’ll make her late, doesn’t think about that as she pushes against Chloe’s shoulders until she has Chloe on her back, with Beca climbing on top of her to eagerly, gladly return the favor.

* * *

Naturally, their impromptu morning tryst puts them behind schedule, but Beca truly does not care. It doesn’t matter to her that she has to hurry to get ready to begin her work day in the busy city. Beca is practically floating around their apartment, still riding her high.

“Slow down,” Chloe chuckles quietly from her position leaning against the counter. Beca is like a whirlwind as she tears through the kitchen, tossing things haphazardly into her large purse. Chloe watches her in amusement as she nibbles on her buttered toast. “You’re not _that_ late, Bec.”

“I know,” Beca nods, tugging her boots onto her feet in a panicked hurry, “I know, I’m good.”

In spite of her words, her actions betray her, and Chloe can’t help but find it adorable.

“You have everything?” Chloe questions, chewing on her bite of toast.

“Think so,” Beca nods, hurrying past her and toward the door. Chloe grins to herself as she catches sight of Beca’s keys on the counter beside her, picking them up with her free hand and hooking the ring around her finger. She won’t let Beca leave without them, but she is sure she’ll realize herself, and Chloe shoots a smirk her way as Beca hurries back to finally grab them.

“Okay, _now_ I have everything,” Beca confirms, leaning up to take a bite of Chloe’s toast. Chloe just continues to smirk in response, accepting the crumb-dusted kiss that Beca pushes to her lips, before heading for the door once more.

“Have a good day,” Chloe calls after her. “Make good choices!”

“That’s my line!” Beca calls back, already halfway out the door. “You have a good day, too. Love you!”

“Love you, too,” Chloe responds in spite of the fact that Beca is definitely now halfway down the hallway and can no longer hear her. The whole scene makes Chloe giggle to herself as she takes another bite of toast, the morning’s events replaying on the most welcomed loop inside her head.

* * *

Beca still refuses to regret her early morning wake up call. Even as she fights through the crowded platform to hop aboard the packed train, she just cannot bring herself to regret it. Beca hates public transport, but it is admittedly the lesser of two evils when it comes down to that or battling through the New York traffic.

She doesn’t even attempt to find a seat, and instead stands by the doorway, ready to hop off and probably run once they reach her next platform. Beca does _not_ run… But she also doesn’t do tardiness, not when it comes to her job, so if she has to show up at the office a sweaty, breathless mess, then so be it.

The reason she’s behind schedule was worth it, anyway. Fuck, it was so worth it.

There is the familiar buzz of commuting chatter around her as Beca scrolls idly through her social media feed. Her lips tug immediately upward at the corner as an update from Chloe’s account shows on her screen. Beca doesn’t even care how goofy the picture is, how blindsided she looks in it with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, hair unruly and messy. Chloe always posts kind of hilarious #WCW pictures (_of course_ Chloe posts WCW pictures. Every Wednesday. Without fail.) and Beca’s thumb double taps the screen to like the image, a fondness in her eyes as she rereads the caption:

_You make all of my mornings amazing. But this was one for the record books._

Beca isn’t one for PDA, not really, so the heart eye and fire emojis she comments are about as far as she’ll go. She finds herself chuckling quietly in response to those that pop up soon after:

**@stacieisrad** get a room 😏

**@theemilyjunk** MOMS

**@a.posen** @becamitch 🤨 do we even want to know?

They’re lucky really, to be in the midst of such a technology immersed day and age, because despite the fact that the Bellas are now dotted all across the country, many in different states, they are still able to remain present in one another’s lives, and Beca is grateful to her girls for helping to make her draining commute to work each morning just a little bit more tolerable.

Of course, it shoots right back to terrible again as soon as the train pulls up at the platform and the passengers begin to pour out without much regard for those around them. Among the shoving, the strap of Beca’s large purse is yanked right the way down her arm, almost causing her to stumble backward. She turns around in time to catch the sight of unfamiliar blue-green eyes that tear themselves away quickly, owner shaking her head and beginning to ramble.

“I’m sorry,” the stranger says quickly, refusing to even look Beca in the eye again. “Yeah. Sorry. I just…” The unfamiliar woman shakes her head, before darting by Beca and proceeding to hastily hurry away. “Sorry.”

Honestly, Beca is not even used to an apology in this environment, so although she raises a dark brow, she simply tugs the strap of her purse back up onto her shoulder, then thinks nothing further of it. Why would she? She only has a couple minutes if she wants to make it to work on time, so Beca’s focus is now on the unappealing idea of running.

She’ll forgo her morning coffee, she decides. She’ll just make sure to get an extra large cup at lunch time.

Beca just hopes the morning goes by fast.

* * *

“Your total is $10.89.”

“Right,” Beca nods, her polite smile faltering as she digs into her purse in search of her wallet. It’s usually right there, in the exact same spot, but her fingers fumble momentarily before coming up empty, and a look of confusion spreads itself across her face. “Uh, sorry. One sec.”

Beca flashes a somewhat nervous look the cashier’s way, almost annoyed that he’s still smiling so cheerfully—he works in retail, how many retail workers are smiling a _real_ smile?

Anyway, not the point.

“Uh, we accept Apple Pay,” the cashier adds helpfully, glancing toward Beca’s open purse. She has begun to pull the contents out, setting them haphazardly down on the counter.

“Yeah, I know. I left my phone charging at work,” Beca nods, now empty purse (save for a couple crumpled receipts) looking sad and deflated on the counter.

Beca lets out a defeated sigh, managing a sympathetic look the cashier’s way. Her cheeks have begun to heat up with what she assumes is a deep crimson glow, though she tries not to draw attention to it. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money. I guess I left my wallet at home or something.”

Beca has a busy afternoon ahead of her, one that she is now going to have to endure with only the mediocre instant coffee from the kitchen at work to hold her over. At least she has almost a full bag of chips stuffed in her desk drawer, so that will evidently have to serve as her lunch for the day.

Fortunately, the cashier is very understanding, so as Beca walks back outside with her head hanging in shame, at least she hasn’t been chastised for wasting their time, too.

It seems pointless to continue searching, considering she had everything out on the countertop only moments ago, but as Beca makes the short walk through the busy city streets and back to her office building, she spends the whole time with a hand fishing around in her purse, of course to no avail. She can’t even call Chloe to ask her to check that it’s at their apartment, since she’s working all day, and Beca knows for a fact Chloe has back to back ops to deal with. So, she just has to accept the fact that while the woman she loves is out there literally saving lives like the modern day superhero she is, Beca herself is a forgetful dumbass, and that is really all there is to it.

The rest of the day is long. It’s tiring and it’s draining, and Beca finds herself daydreaming about the coffee she missed out on, though the thought of going home to Chloe and the two of them cuddling up together on the couch with mugs filled freshly from their coffee machine helps to keep her mood up. Beca finds herself doing that a lot, if she’s honest… Daydreaming about Chloe. Beca is so infinitely, unashamedly proud of her girlfriend, so in awe of everything she does, it is just hard for her not to.

Beca often wonders if Chloe thinks about her in return, in fact. If she’s out there at the practice wondering how Beca’s day is going, what she’s doing.

She is sure that she does; nothing about them has ever been one-sided, after all.

* * *

As far as long days go, this one has been strong competition for all of the others. But honestly, Chloe doesn’t mind that. She hasn’t always been the type to thrive under pressure—the Bellas kind of lost their sound one time, and Chloe did _not_ handle that well at all—but she finds that her work days are different. She likes having a lot to do; likes fixing as many fur babies per day as is humanly possible.

But as much as Chloe loves her job, loves helping those who can’t help themselves, she loves coming home to her girlfriend more. Letting Beca leave this morning had been difficult enough, but at least she’d had their morning memory ingrained in her mind the whole day to tide her over.

Chloe would be lying if she said she wasn’t hoping for a rerun later on.

So, as she pulls up outside of she and Beca’s apartment, sweater tugged tightly around herself to fight off the cold October air, Chloe finds that she is excited to get inside, to hear all about Beca’s day, the thrilling and mundane alike. Beca is usually home first, so it is a little weird for her to walk inside to be greeted by total silence, though Chloe isn’t worried.

Not at first, anyway.

It is when the apartment buzzer sounds, with Chloe halfway out of her scrub top, that she gets this feeling, one she can’t fully explain. Regardless, somehow it makes her feel like something is wrong.

“Crap,” Chloe mutters, shrugging her top the rest of the way off, before reaching out for the nearest accessible item of clothing—one of Beca’s band tees. Chloe pulls it on quickly, tugging her long hair out from beneath the neck, and makes her way hurriedly toward the door. Her heart jumps directly into her throat as her eyes land on the small screen.

Nobody wants to see the police standing outside of their door, and Chloe is in total panic mode as she buzzes them in, waiting by the open door for their arrival inside.

“Um, is everything okay?” Chloe questions cautiously, before they even have the chance to greet her. She notices a somber look in two sets of unfamiliar eyes, and Chloe’s already pale face loses any hint of color it has, voice becoming a little squeakier. “What happened?”

The first voice is much too gentle for Chloe’s liking, like they are preparing her for bad news. “Is this the Mitchell residence?”

“Yeah. Well, no… Beca Mitchell lives here, yes. I’m her girlfriend, my name is Chloe Beale,” Chloe explains, evident panic lacing her tone. “What’s going on? Where’s Beca?”

“Ms. Beale,” the female officer begins, her smile weak and gentle, “Is it okay if we come in?”

Chloe swallows around the lump forming in her throat, head nodding quickly. “Yes. Please.” She steps aside, worried eyes desperately scanning the two faces. “Can somebody please tell me what’s going on?”

“We’re so sorry, Ms. Beale,” the male officer chimes in now. He and his colleague are standing much too uniformly, the energy radiating from them causing Chloe’s body to tense up completely. That same bad feeling is only intensifying the longer they draw this out, and each second is beginning to feel more like a year.

“Sorry for wh—” Chloe shakes her head, voice a little higher pitched now. She wouldn’t normally lose her cool with authority figures, but she can’t help her frustration, and they evidently understand it, too. They don’t react to her louder voice, to the clear fear and anger clouding her words. “Can someone just tell me what the hell is going on?”

“We appreciate that this is incredibly difficult to hear,” the officer continues, “There was an accident, unfortunately we believe Ms. Mitchell was involved.”

Chloe’s every sense, every emotion, screeches into overdrive. Her eyes shoot wide open, her vision blurring with salty liquid that begins to spill over her lids as she quickly shakes her head. “What kind of accident? Is she okay? I have to see her.”

“Ms. Beale,” the officer presses on, his tone just as calm and even as before in spite of Chloe’s very obvious breakdown. “The female involved did not survive. We know this is a difficult time for you, but we’re going to need you to identify the body.”

His words aren’t clear anymore. Then again, nothing is. It is almost as if somebody has just punched Chloe in the gut, the vibration causing her ears to ring and her vision to blur further. Chloe is transported back to this morning, to Beca’s body pressed up safely against her own, the feeling of her warm skin still lingering beneath her fingertips.

Chloe forgets how to breathe, forgets how to _be_, and both officers reach forward to grab her right before she falls, in what feels like slow motion, right down to the ground.

Chloe has never received this kind of news before, never known how she would handle it. It comes so unexpectedly, hits her like a ton of falling bricks, and she desperately tries to claw her way back out from beneath the rubble, clutching at the arms helping to gently pull her back upright.

“We’re so sorry,” the female officer says, though her voice sounds distant. It echoes, as if she isn’t in the room at all.

“Do you have her?” One distant, unfamiliar voice asks the other, followed by the feeling of hands releasing their hold on her arm. “I’m going to go get her some water.”

The second set of hands are still holding onto her firmly, still keeping her as steady as they can. Chloe doesn’t even realize her feet are moving, doesn’t really know how she got to the couch, but the officer is helping to lower her down onto it, and Chloe begins to grow familiar with her surroundings once more.

“Ms Beale… Chloe,” it’s the female voice addressing her, evidently attempting to seem more comforting, more relatable somehow. But Chloe doesn’t know her, she doesn’t know these people in her home, doesn’t understand what they’re saying. Their words don’t make sense. They’re not real. Chloe won’t let herself believe that any of this is real. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re lying,” Chloe manages to stammer out, finally finding her voice again. Her words are spoken through thick, desperate sobs, and it still feels like she is having to fight for breath. But there is a comforting hand on her back, the presence adamantly reminding her that this is real. God, she wishes it wasn’t. She really wishes they were lying. They could literally scream _April Fools_ right now and Chloe wouldn’t even be angry. She just needs this to not be real, needs it not to be what it is.

Chloe continues in a strained, broken voice, eyes pleading with the woman beside her. “Please tell me you’re lying. I can’t…” She cuts herself off with a choked out sob. “I can’t have lost her. I can’t.”

The officer doesn’t respond, and instead just looks at Chloe with sorrow-filled eyes. This is all a part of the job for her, but there is obvious compassion there, it’s clear that she doesn’t enjoy doing this.

And who can blame her?

“You said you _believe_…” Chloe begins, sentence broken and words choked out. The fact that she’s even stringing them together at all is a miracle. “You didn’t say it _is_ her. You said you _believe_ it is. So there’s a chance that it isn’t, right? That it’s not Beca.”

As hopeful as she is, there is no evidence of it in Chloe’s words. If they weren’t at least ninety percent sure, they wouldn’t have shown up here, Chloe knows that. But she can lie to herself, tell herself that they’re wrong, that Beca will walk through that door any second, or that her phone will buzz with a text to let her know that she’s running late and asking if she wants her to pick up dinner.

“The identification card we found belongs to Beca Mitchell,” the officer explains, tone still gentle. Everything she’s saying seems so careful, almost calculated. It’s like she is afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of giving Chloe the hope she so desperately wishes she could cling to.

That hope is fading fast, of course. The walls are beginning to close in on her again, and Chloe is finding it hard to breathe once more. It’s like, somehow, she is hearing the news all over again, and she finds that she is struggling to understand what’s real.

There’s an officer in her kitchen, fumbling around for a glass. There’s one sitting beside her, confirming Chloe’s biggest fears, giving her the worst news she can even imagine. That’s all real. She wishes it wasn’t… God, she wishes it wasn’t. But it is, and Chloe doesn’t know how to accept it.

The front door opening, though? That’s not real. Nor is the sound of Beca’s voice, the way she stops in her tracks mid-sentence as her gaze lands on the sight unfolding on the couch.

“Babe, did you know there’s a cop ca— Uh. What’s going on?”

Beca leans down to set her oversized purse quickly on the floor, the sound of her keys jangling as she dumps them onto the table by the door almost making Chloe jump.

“Chlo?” Beca’s voice is laced with panic, it sounds desperate as it rings through the air. Beca makes her way quickly toward the couch, crouching down in front of Chloe. “What happened?” Worried eyes dart up toward the female officer, “What’s wrong with her?”

Chloe’s expression is suddenly blank, her face almost unrecognizably pale. She recoils with the feeling of Beca’s hands touching her own, fear filling those blue eyes that Beca has taken so much comfort in so many times before.

“You’re not… You—” Chloe begins to choke out, eyes wide with what Beca perceives as sheer terror. It is an emotion Beca has never seen Chloe display before, not this strongly. It is a far cry from the amused smile Beca had kissed away this morning before heading out the door. Honestly, it scares her.

And then Chloe’s arms are flying around her, she’s clinging to her harder than Beca has ever felt her before. It’s like she never wants to let go, like she’s truly never going to. All Beca can do is wrap her arms in turn around Chloe’s middle, holding onto her as comfortingly as she knows how. It is like Chloe is fighting for air as desperate sobs ring right by Beca’s ear.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay,” Beca soothes gently, tone confused, though she speaks in a soft voice. Her hand moves up to run through the back of Chloe’s hair. “I’ve got you. I’m here. What’s going on?”

Of course Beca has noticed the police officer sitting beside her girlfriend, but her focus is on Chloe, on making sure that whatever this is, Chloe is okay. Her chin rests softly on Chloe’s shoulder, face turning to finally shoot the officer a confused look. The brown eyes that stare back at her are wide and questioning. Honestly, Beca doesn’t understand it, doesn’t understand why there is a stranger in her living room looking at her like Beca is the one that shouldn’t be here.

“Ms. Mitchell?” The uniformed stranger questions, tongue darting out to lick over her lips.

“Yeah?”

The officer seems to scoot back a little bit, almost like she is suddenly afraid. Again, Beca doesn’t understand it, though she is much more focused on holding Chloe, on keeping her upright, because the girl in her arms is definitely not stable right now. While Beca will panic about it later, right now she knows she has to comfort her, to be the strength Chloe very obviously needs.

“I’m so sorry,” the officer continues, standing from the couch, “I think there’s been a mistake.”

Before she even gets the chance to explain further, or for Beca to question her, Chloe seems to find her voice again. It’s teary and it’s broken, but it’s finally beginning to calm some, her grip on Beca’s body loosening. Not enough for her to let go, though. Regardless, Beca pulls back, hands moving up to rest on Chloe’s shoulders, blue eyes desperately scanning Chloe’s face.

“They said you were in an accident. They said you were dead,” Chloe says, the last word whispered, like she doesn’t dare to say it any louder.

“What?”

While Beca’s expression is quizzical, as her stare moves to the officer, then to the second one walking in from the direction of the kitchen, it grows a little more serious, a little angrier.

“You told her I was _dead_?” Beca doesn’t mean to yell.

Or maybe she does… She’s pissed. Understandably so, if you were to ask her.

Mistakes happen. People make them every single day. But this is a big one, one that Beca can’t comprehend rationally just yet, not seeing how broken Chloe is as she slumps on the couch, looking through a teary gaze at Beca like she has just seen a ghost.

(A look that makes total and complete sense now.)

The male officer, apparently putting two and two together, begins to explain the situation. If Beca wasn’t so concerned about Chloe, about staying right there with her, she’d likely stand and shove the glass he’s holding right out of his hand. Not that that would help at all, of course, but she’s _angry_. How could she not be?

“Dude, you don’t just tell someone their girlfriend is dead! That’s something you make one hundred percent certain of. Look what you’ve done to her,” Beca rambles, her panicked voice now higher pitched. She motions toward Chloe, before her gaze drifts back over to her. Beca’s hands move from Chloe’s shoulders to delicately cup her cheeks, tears instantly soaking her fingers. She makes sure Chloe is looking at her, that their familiar gazes find one another’s and lock together. “I’m here, I’m fine. There was no accident, I’m not dead.” The fact that she even has to say those words is almost laughable, though of course this is anything but an amusing situation.

Chloe literally looks like she has been scarred for life.

“Is there any way someone else could have your ID?” The male officer questions.

It seems like the very last thing Beca cares to even think about, though a thought flashes quickly into her mind. She is transported back to the coffee shop, to her missing wallet. Then she’s back to the train this morning, to the way the strap of her purse fell down her shoulder, the way the girl with the blue-green eyes looked anywhere but at Beca, apologizing profusely before scurrying away.

It makes sense now. And had she not walked into the scene she had, she’d care a little bit more. But a stolen wallet is the very least of her worries. Chloe is the priority. Chloe is _always_ the priority.

“I lost my wallet,” Beca explains, voice a little exasperated. “I guess someone stole it, I don’t know.”

This still isn’t okay. How could it be? But Chloe has begun to calm, she isn’t crying uncontrollably anymore. She’s still shaking, but she’s slowing some, she’s coming back to reality, and Beca’s initial shock is wearing off now, too. Beca knows that, as fucked up a mistake as it was, it obviously _was_ a mistake, so Beca takes a deep breath to gather herself, before finally standing from her crouched position in front of Chloe. Her hands never leave Chloe, though. She’s still there for her, she’s always going to be there for her, and Beca needs Chloe to know that. She desperately needs her to know it.

“Look,” Beca begins, somewhat annoyed expression on her face, though her initial anger has dissipated. She looks between each officer as she continues. “I get the confusion, I do. But this was a really messed up mistake to make, and I think, if there’s nothing else, you should probably leave.”

They need alone time. They need privacy. They need to clean up someone else’s mess, and despite profuse apologies, Beca really cannot get their unwanted visitors out of their apartment fast enough.

* * *

Since Beca arrived home, Chloe has done a lot of staring. Staring at Beca, staring at the wall ahead of her. The whole evening has seriously messed her up, though Beca can completely understand it. It doesn’t even bear thinking about, the idea of someone telling her that kind of news about Chloe, but Beca is sure she would’ve reacted the same way.

Beca doesn’t usually drink wine, she doesn’t like the taste of it. Beca is a beer girl at heart, but she’d needed something a little stronger, and as Chloe soaks in the bubble bath Beca has drawn for her, she sinks back her second glass, ignoring the bitter taste of red wine as it slides dryly down her throat.

Like anything, even this incredibly fucked up day has come along with paperwork. Beca stares at it on her laptop screen, trying to make sense of the form she is supposed to be filling out, but glances upward at the sound of familiar footsteps padding into the room.

“Hey,” Beca greets softly, offering Chloe a weak smile. Beca doesn’t even think about it as she closes the lid of her laptop, pushing it aside and rising from the bed. “Feeling a little better?” She sets her almost empty glass down on the bedside table, fingers sliding gently down Chloe’s arm until they reach her hand, and Beca can lace her fingers through Chloe’s.

Chloe nods her head, smile even weaker than Beca’s. But it is a smile, no matter how small, and that’s a start.

Slowly, carefully, Beca guides Chloe toward the bed, and while Chloe appreciates the caution, while she accepts the help, she gives Beca a look once she is seated, voice soft.

“I’m fine,” Chloe just above whispers, looking up toward a still-standing Beca.

With her hand held in Chloe’s, Beca allows Chloe to gently tug her down onto the bed beside her. Chloe hasn’t washed her hair, though the ends drip from where they have obviously sunk beneath the bath water, wetting the fabric of the oversized dark green sweater she has thrown on. Beca takes the damp towel from Chloe’s other hand, lifting it to wrap up the ends of Chloe’s red hair.

“I know you are, Chlo,” Beca nods, gently twisting the towel to dry Chloe’s damp curls. “It was just a rough day.” Beca leans forward, stretching upward slightly, to push a soft kiss to Chloe’s forehead.

Chloe’s lids flutter shut, savoring the feeling of Beca’s lips against her skin.

Unwrapping the towel, Beca drops it onto the floor beside the bed. She has no desire to leave Chloe’s side, and even if she tried, she’s sure Chloe wouldn’t let her. Again, she really can’t blame her.

“Try the worst day,” Chloe mumbles, lids fluttering back open to reveal eyes that glisten with salty liquid. The sight causes Beca’s heart to ache, her shoulders to slump slightly.

“Hey, but it turned out okay, right?” Beca’s voice is soft and comforting. She lifts a hand to wipe beneath Chloe’s teary eye with the pad of her thumb, catching a tear before it gets the chance to properly fall. “It was a shitty mistake, but that’s all it was. Everything’s okay.”

“Right,” Chloe nods, voice not much more than a whisper. In spite of the way her eyes shine with tears, she manages something of a sad smile, swallowing around the lump in her throat as she meets Beca’s gaze. “But do you know how scary that was? To think I’d lost you?”

Beca doesn’t know if she’s supposed to answer, or if she should just let Chloe get everything out there. She doesn’t get much time to think about it, though, before Chloe is continuing, and all Beca does is hold her gaze. She tries to keep her heart from crumbling as she takes in that look of genuine sadness in her favorite ocean blue eyes.

“It was like… Think about the worst you’ve ever felt. And then think about it tenfold. Twentyfold… A hundred,” Chloe whispers, tongue licking slowly over the part in her lips. There is no point in Beca wiping away Chloe’s tears, because they have begun to roll silently down her cheeks by now, and they’re not likely to stop anytime soon. So, Beca just watches her, just lets her go on. “I know that it wasn’t real, that it’s okay now. But I had to think about my life without you, and I guess I realized that I don’t know it anymore. I don’t know how to do this without you. I don’t _want_ to do this without you, Bec.”

Beca’s hand has risen to delicately twist the ends of Chloe’s hair between her fingers, sad eyes locked with Chloe’s. “You don’t have to, though. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going anywhere, Chlo.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Beca nods, delicately pushing a chunk of damp hair over Chloe’s shoulder. Beca offers her a small smile, makes a meagre attempt to lighten the mood a little bit. “You’re stuck with me. You’ve been stuck with me since you were twenty years old, and I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’ll be one hundred and twenty and still stuck with me. You do know that, right?”

It’s Chloe’s turn to nod her head now. “I’m going to marry you, you know?” Chloe says in a soft but confident voice, one that doesn’t waver nor falter.

It isn’t a proposal. It’s the first time they’ve talked about marriage, sure, but it’s not an official proposal. That doesn’t take away from the seriousness, though. It doesn’t make it mean any less, and where Beca has considered it before, where she has thought about how terrifying a prospect something as serious as _marriage_ is, she finds that it doesn’t scare her now. Beca doesn’t pull back nor recoil. In fact, her gaze doesn’t even move from Chloe’s, and the way her heart races is with anything but fear.

Beca lifts a hand again, this time to brush a chunk of unbrushed red hair softly behind Chloe’s ear. The smile on her lips is soft, the way she nods her head is as delicate as her voice.

“I know you are, Chlo,” Beca whispers, her gaze firmly locking with Chloe’s. “We’re forever,” Beca’s shoulder shrugs gently, half smile still stretched lazily across her lips, “We kind of always have been.”

“I know,” Chloe nods, voice still soft, still sure, “Do you know how much I love you?”

“I do,” Beca leans forward, planting a small, gentle kiss to the middle of Chloe’s lightly creased forehead. Her lips brush against soft skin as she speaks, eyes closing momentarily and words whispered in return, “I do. Because I love you that much, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the [tumblr prompt](https://snowbritt.tumblr.com/post/188216081310/what-about-a-prompt-where-beca-gets-mugged-on-the): "Beca gets mugged on the way to the radio station (losing her wallet, ID and phone.) Later on, the mugger is involved in an accident that leaves them badly disfigured and the police, finding Beca’s wallet on them, mistake the mugger for Beca and rock up to the apartment she shares with Chloe to break the bad news of Beca’s supposed “death”. Chloe is totally devastated until Beca trudges through the door pissed about being mugged."
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://snowbritt.tumblr.com), where I'm always accepting Bechloe prompts!


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